Sweetly
by BellaButtonxoxo
Summary: One deadly secret. Eight missing teenage girls. A town full of fear. Full summary inside.
1. Prologue

**Sweetly/Twilight crossover**

**Summary: Twelve years ago three siblings went looking for a witch in the forest. Only two of them returned. Now, Emmett and Bella move to the town of Forks. The stay in the candy shop owned by Rosalie Hale. Something isn't quite right about her, but Bella has no idea what. With all the missing girls in town, Bella cant help but be curious whether or not the hatred Edward Mason has for Rosalie is deserved. **

**Sadly, I own nothing... Enjoy. **

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><p>(Twelve Years Ago)<p>

The book said there was a witch in the woods. That's why they werre among the thick trees to begin with - to find her. The three of them trudged along, weaving through the hemlocks and maples, long out of sight of their house, their father's happy smiles, their mother's soft hands.

A sharp ripping sound bounced through the trees. The boy whirled around.

"Sorry," one of the girls said, though she clearly didnt mean it. Her cheeks where still lined with baby fat, identical to the girl standing beside her. She held up the bag of chocolate candies that she'd just torn open. "You can have the yellow ones, Emmett, if you want."

"No one likes the yellows," Emmett said, rolling his eyes.

"Mom does," one of the twins argued, but he'd turned his back and couldn't tell which one. That was how it normally was with them - they blended, so much so that you sometimes couldn't tell if they were two people or the same person twice. The sister with the candy emptied a handful of them into her palm, picking out the yellows and dropping them as they continued to trudge forward.

"When we find the witch," Emmett told his sisters, "if she chases us, we should split up. That way she can only eat one if us."

"What if she catches me, though?" one of the girls asked, alarmed.

"Well, what if she catches me, Bella?" Emmett replied.

"You're bigger. She should chase you," the other sister told him, pouting. "That's the way they work." She was the only one who claimed to know the ways of the witches - she was the one with the stories, the made up maps, the pages and pages of books stored away in her head. She reached into her twin's bag of candy and pegged Emmett in the back of the head with a yellow candy. He didn't react, so she prepared to throw another one -

"Wait... Do you know where we are?" he asked.

One of the twins raised her eyes to the forest canopy and scanned the closest tree trunks, while her sister turned slowly in the leaves. They knew these woods by heart but had never ventured quite so far before. The shadows from the branches felt like strangers, the cracks and pops of nature turned eerie.

The twins simultaneously shook their heads and their brother nodded curtly, trying to hide the fact that being so far out made him uneasy. He hurried forward, eager to keep moving.

"Emmett? Wait!" one asked, and ran to close the space between them. "Are we lost?"

"Only a little," he answered, jumping at the sound of a particularly loud falling branch. "Don't be scared."

"I'm not," she lied. She began to wish that she'd packed peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for their adventure, instead of two Barbies and a bag of candy, which Bella had almost finished off anyway. What if they were stuck out here till past dinnertime?

"Besides," Emmett said, over his shouler, "maybe she'll be a good witch, like Glinda, and help us get unlost."

"I thought you said she might want to eat us."

"Well, maybe, but we won't know until we find her. Unless you want to go back," Emmett said. He didn't entirely believe the stories about the witch, but his sisters did and he didn't want to ruin it for them. Another pop in the woods made him jumo; he shook off the nerves and sang their favourite song, one from a plastic record player that had been given to them by their father.

_"Oh, when you're down and looking for some cheering up, then just head right on up to the candy mountain cave,"_ The twins began to hum along, adding words here or there, until they got to the line all three of them loved and they sang in unison.

_"They've got lollipops and gummy drops and candy things. Oh so many things that will brighten up your day. It's impossible to wear a frown in candy town. It's the mecca of love, the candy cave!"_ The familiar words calmed them, made things fun again, as though their combined voices swept the fear away.

Emmett was about to begin another verse when a new noise came from farther in the forest - not a pop, not a crack, but a footstep. A slow, rolling foot on dried leaves, then another, then another. He grabbed his sisters' hands, one of their sticky palms in each of his, The bag of candies fell to the ground and scattered, rainbow colours in the dead leaves.

They waited. There was nothing.

And yet there was something - there was something, something breathing, something dripping, something still and hard in the trees. Emmett's eyes raced across the trunks, looking for whatever it was that he was certain, beyond all doubt, had its eyes locked on them.

"Who's there?" Emmett shouted. His voice shook, and it made the twins quiver. Emmett was never scared. He was their big brother. He protected them from boys with sticks and thunderstorms.

But he was scared now, and they were torn between wonder and horror at the sight.

Nothing answered Emmett's question. It got quieter. Birds stilled, trees silenced, breath stopped, his grip on his sisters' hands tightened. It was still there, whatever it was, but it was motionless, waiting, waiting, waiting...

It finally spoke, a low, whispery voice, something that could be mistaken for wind in the trees, something that made Emmett's throat dry. He couldn't pick out the words - they were torn apart, and they were dark. Low, gluttural, threatening.

The words stopped.

And it laughed.

Emmett sqeezed his sisters' hands and took off the way they had come. He yanked them along and ran as fast as he could, over brush and under limbs. The twins screamed, a single high-pitched notw rhat ripped through the trees and swam around Emmett's head. He couldn't look back, not without slowing.

It was behind them. Right behind them, chasing them.

Bella stumbled but held tightly onto Emmett, let herself be dragged to to her feet just as something grasped at her ankles, missed. They had to move faster; it was coming, crunching leaves, grabbing at the hems of their clothes.

_It's going to catch us._

The twins slowed Emmett down - their joined hands slowed everyone down. They'd promised to split up so the witch could only eat one of them, but now...

_It's going to catch us._

Emmett lightened his grip, just the smallest bit, and suddenly his hands were free and the three of them were sprinting through the trees. The thing behind them roared, an even darker version of the words they'd heard earlier.

Both twins knew the other couldnt run much longer. Did Emmett know the way out?

_Candy._

On the ground, yellow candies. Emmett was following them, slicing around trees while the twins followed along desperately, eyes focused on finding the next piece, the trail back to the part of the forest they knew. The monster leapt for one of the twins, missed her, made a breathy, hissing sound of frustration. She dared to glance back.

Yellow, sick looking eyes found hers.

She turned forward and sped up, faster then the others, driven by the yellow eyes that overpowered the sharp aches in her chest, her legs begging for rest. There was light ahead, shapes that weren't trees. Their house, their house was close - the candy trail had worked. She couldn't feel her feet anymore, her lungs were bursting, eyes watering, cheeks scratched, but there was the house.

They burst from the woods onto their cool lawn. _Get inside, get inside._ Emmettflung the back door open and they stumbled in, slamming the door shut. Their father and mother ran down the stairs, saw their children sweaty and panting and quivering, and asked in panicky, perfect unison:

_"Where's your sister?"_

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><p><strong>Reviews are like candy to me... Very addictive ;)<br>Hope you enjoy :)**


	2. Chapter 1

**I own nothing.**

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><p>The truth is, I cant believe it took our stepmother this long to throw us out.<p>

She's never liked us, after all, especially me - she didn't like the way my father loved me, didn't like the fact that I perfectly matched the daughter she's never met but my father ached for, the way I looked like his dead wife when she'd been a teenager. She said she just couldn't afford to keep us anymore and, with me having just turned eighteen and Emmett nineteen, was no longer obligated to.

_Obligated._ We were obligations left behind by a father eaten alive by mourning, remnants of a shattered family.

"Are we in South Carolina yet? I zoned out," Emmett says, his voice a forced calm as he peers over the steering wheel. He likes to have a plan of attack, like he did back on the football field in high school, but right now, we've got nothing more then the clothes in the car and the gasoline in the tank.

He doesn't want me to see him worrying, but the truth is, I'm happy to be gone. I feel freer without a plan on the middle of nowhere then I did back home.

"Not yet," I answer, kicking my feet up onto the dash. The backs of my legs are sticky and sweat trickles down my chest - it uses too much gas to run the AC and the heat here is heavy. It's a little easier to bear if I imagine we're on an epic road trip, the kind that's a fun adventure, like you see in movies. "We should be there in another three or four hours, I think." I add.

'There' is the direct result of the folded and refolded pastel brochure in my hands: _Folly Beach, South Carolina: The Edge of America._ I picked up the brochure at a Tennessee rest stop, and ever since, we've been moving towards it, at my behest and Emmett's ever-accommodating apathy.

The photo on the front is of a peaceful, quiet beach with a red and white lighthouse by the water's edge. The sand goes on for miles, golden and flat, while the water peaks into elegant waves. Its the place of my dreams - whereas back home, with its dense forests, was full of places for girls to disappear, to vanish into the trees at the hands of a witch.

A witch. The only term I have for whatever it was that took my sister. I visualise the witch as a twisted villian, an evil woman, a monster, a demon, a near-invisible force, every man in our neighbourhood, a trick of the light - something with horribly golden eyes that only I saw and Emmett has long insisted never existed in the first place. Whatever the witch is, she lives among dark trees, deep valleys, craggy ocean cliffs. I've spent my whole life longing for soft, endless sand and crashing waves that blur the sounds of the world, so I no longer stare at the trees and where the other half of me is among them. I've spent my whole life wanting to forget escape the memory of my sister, wanting to start over, and hating myself for wanting that. How could I want to run away from a lost little girl?

But still. I open the brochure again and read.

_A picturesque town of painted sunsets, elegant dining, and endless beaches, Folly Beach is truly the Edge of America - where the everyday ends and serenity begins._

Each second we drive, we get closer the the water., the sand, the flat shore where it is impossible to vanish, where I have plans: plans to start over. Plans to be someone new, someone who isn't haunted by a dead sister. We fly past exits that have nothing at them and finally see hints of the beach only a few hours ahead. Signs advertising resorts and speedboat rentals and little shops boasting floats and giant sized beach towels - it's early June, prime beach season, and most of the other cars on the road seem packed to the brim with vacationing families. I inhale the hot scent of cut hay and try to imagine that it's the ocean's salt.

The Jeep kicks. There's a loud crack, a boom, and the smell of smoke suddenly overpowers the air.

Emmett veers off the nearly empty road just as grey smoke billows from the fron of the car. He jumps out, slamming the door as he runs around and opens the hood. I can't see him anymore, but his coughs and curses make their way to my ears. I lean out of my window, trying to see what's going on, just as Emmett makes his way back around the car.

"The whole damn thing is burned up," he snaps, throwing himself back into the driver's seat. He shakes his head and punches at the steering wheel. "We only have fifty seven dollars left and the car burns to pieces."

Emmett mutters another string of curse words, flipping through his wallet as if he might find an extra twenty dollar bill hidden between old receipts. When he doesn't he shakes his head, grits his teeth and breathes slowly. He has a fast temper, but he knows it and tries to keep it a bay around me. It was my mother's suggestion, when Emmett started to heal and I still stared at the forest, waiting for my sister to stumble out. _'Make sure Bella knows you're there for her. Don't upset her - be her rock, Emmett. You have to help her move on.'_

It's a shame my mother couldn't listen to her own advice. She couldn't be anyone's rock, curled up in her bedroom until the grief devoured her. We weren't even allowed to say our sister's name in front of her, because it would set her off, either make her sob or yell at us, scream that we had lost her. So we were supposed to act like nothing was wrong. As if there had always been only two Swan children, and Emmett constantly trying to find whatever it was that would make up for our sister's absence, doing everything he could to be my rock, the person i hold onto when i feel as though i might slide off the world and vanish like she did.

Emmett leans across me and opens the glove compartment, then pulls out a crumbly map, folded in all the wrong ways. He stares at it for a moment. "We're closer to the town we just passed then we are to the next one. We'll have to walk."

"What if we called a tow truck?"

"I don't think we can afford it, but either way my phone is dead. Wait - yours hasn't been used much. Does it have any bars out here?"

Of course it hasn't been used - no one would think to call me. I wanted friends, really, but at the same time, how could I go to the mall and laugh at movies when my sister was out there in the darkness? Emmett, somehow, forced himself over that hurdle - every time he hangs up the phone, he touches the thick class ring on his finger, as if it's his last connection to normal, to his friends, to their world. I feel bad that he's back in mine, despite how much I need him.

I shake my head at him. "My phone died this morning. I forgot to bring a car charger."

"Then we walk." He says with a sigh. I grab my purse and climb out of the car.

And we start to walk.

Everything seemed hot before, when we were sitting in the car. But now things are_ truly_ hot, stifling in a way I've never known. The air doesn't move - it sits on us like a weight, crushing us into the long grasses we trudge through. The sky is cloudless, imposing, and what feels like a million years, the scenery doesnt change. The pine-saturated forest feels as though its growing oppressively closer, and I can feel the familiar fear bubbling up in my chest. There could be something in the leaves, there could be something that makes me disappear. Emmett sees that im afraid, and quietly moves so that he's in between me and the treeline. He thinks that makes it better, but really, who would i rather the witch take this time round - Emmett or me?

Finally, the exit ramp appears ahead, just as the feeling of insects biting at my ankles is becoming too much to handle. Rivers of sweat carve down my back and Emmett's shirt is drenched, but we huff and jog up the ramp to a crossroad. There are two signs at the top of the ramp surrounded by black-eyed Susans. One is hand painted with red and blue lettering and reads SEE ROBERT E. LEE'S RIDING BOOTS. The other is wooden with a white background and red lettering that isn't entirely even, as if it were hand-carved. FORKS, WASHINGTON STATE, HOME OF THE TITANS - 1969 COUNTRY CHAMPIONS.

"1969?" Emmett says, surprised. "And they still have the sign up?"

"Maybe its the only time they've won," I suggest. Emmett frowns -back home, his school's football team won the state championship so regularly that they had to shift the oldest 'state champs' plaque off the sign every year to make way for the newest one. He was a defensive lineman - I think I see him smirk a little at the sign as we pass it. He loved all sports, but football was his obsession - he memorised plays, other player's stats, training ragiments. He told me once that it was because he liked getting hit. That being knocked to the ground reminded him that he was here.

"It looks like out options are limited," he says. There's nothing but farmland to out right. To our left is a large store - floats in the shapes of orcas and alligators rest in bins outside, and beach towels are hanging in the window. Beside that is a gas station attatched to a long diner with giant glass windows. Even from here, I can see people watching us as they eat lunch. They look like they're glaring at us, but I can't really tell for sure.

Emmett walks quickly to get in front of me, and within a few moments we're close enough that people have stopped staring for fear of being caught. There's a faded red cursive sign over the diner: JUDY'S. Painted letters on the windows advertise famous blackberry pie and muscadine grape preserves. All the people inside are hunched over whatever they're eating, as though they worry someone might snatch it away from them.

When Emmett pushes the door open, a wind chime hanging on the interior knocks against it. The diner is mostly occupied by sun-spotted old men wearing baseball caps and jeans, though there are a few soft-looking women as well, all completely silent, eyes on us. I was right - they are glaring, but I'm not sure why.

"All right, all right, give them some space." A weary looking waitress calls from the other end of the diner, waving a rag at the patrons. They give her dark looks, but abandon the suspicious glares at Emmett and me. The waitress drops off a stack of napkins next to an old man, then walks our way. Her yellow dress stands out against the faded aquamarine and black that decks out the diner. "Forgive them. They don't like outsiders. I see enough that I'm over it, I guess. What'll you have? Coca-Cola? Sweet tea? You look roasted."

"Uh, neither, actually. We broke down about a mile ahead on the road. I wanted to see if we can get a tow truck." Emmett says.

"Closest tow company is over in Port Angeles, ever since the Bakers left town. They can be out here in about an hour though, if you want their number," the waitress tells us with a pitying frown.

"Can I use your phone to call?" Emmett asks. The waitress reaches down below the register and pulls up an ancient looking phone, and she and Emmett begin flipping through a series of tattered business cards, looking for the tow company's number. I ease myself onto one of the bar stools and lok around the diner.

Along with a few older blue-collar men sitting at the bar is a man - _boy?_ - about Emmett's age, though something about him feels _old._ It's not his skin, not his hands, but something in the way he holds his shoulders, in the way his head droops down, something that makes me think he's handsome and dangerous all at once. Our eyes lock for a small moment, just as he runs his hand through his bronze coloured hair, which is already quite messy. Bright eyes as green as emeralds, eyes that don't match the tired look of the rest of his body - the gaze shoots through the air and startles me. I glance down, and when I look back up, the boy is hunched over his coffee again.

I'm jarred away from him by the sound of Emmett hanging up the phone harder then necessary.

"Interested in that sweet tea now? How about a cheerwine?" the waitress asked Emmett.

"Why not? Two teas, I guess." He mutters in response. The waitress nods and jogs towards a silver urn of tea labled SWEET with a permanent marker. I don't totally get the need for the marker, because the identical one beside it is also labelled SWEET.

Emmett slides onto the stool next to me. "The guy says it'll cost a hundred and fifty dollars. Might as well be a hundred and fifty thousand. I told him never mind. I didn't even ask how much it would be to fix the car." He sighs and rubs his forehead. "I could do it if I had the tools, but I didn't have room to pack them."

The waitress slides two glasses of amber tea packed with ice on the counter; I sip on mine tentatively. It's tremendously sweet, so much so that I feel the sugar coating the inside of my mouth. Emmett and I sit in silence for a moment, until a man a few seats down clears his throat loudly and wiped his mouth with a handkerchief.

"Okay, okay, you got my pity. You good with your hands, by chance?" the man asks.

"Good enough," Emmett answers carefully, rising. He walks over and shakes the man's hand.

"Emmett Swan" - Emmett nods towards me - "and my sister, Bella."

"Carlisle Cullen," the man replies.

Other people stare at Carlisle as though he's broken some kind of oath about talking to strangers. He doesn't notice, though - he runs his hand over his perfectly sculpted, blonde hair. "Well, if you can do some basic repair sort of stuff, I might be able to point you in the right direction to make a little cash."

"I can do basic repairs - more then basic repairs. What do you need done?" Emmett says eagerly.

"Not me - Rosalie Hale. She runs a candy shop way out in the near middle of nowhere. Needed some stuff fixing up, last time I talked to her."

There's a sharp movement next to me; I turn to see that the green-eyed boy has lifted his head, 'Yeah, _she_ needs help," he mutters, slamming his coffee mug down so hard that the liquid sloshes out of the sides. The waitress cusses at him under her breath, lifts the mug, and runs a wet rag over the spill. Everyone else in the diner seems to share the waitress's sentiment - annoyed eye rolls and irritated glances fly his way. No one offers any sort of explination before Carlilse continues.

"Anyway, interested?"

"Yes," Emmett answers immediately. "Absoloutly. If I buy your meal for you, would you give us a ride back to my car first? I don't want to leave our suitcases out there all day."

"Hell, don't worry about it, kid. I feel bad for you - you remind me of my grandson, before my daughter up and moved to the city with him. I'll give you a ride to your car. Just remember to tell Miss Hale how gentlemanly I was." Carlisle says with a loud chuckle. The green-eyed boy responds by dropping a ten dollar bill onto the counter and jumping from his seat. He moves to leave the diner but suddenly stops in front of me, eyes piercing my own.

"Stay away from her," he tells me, loud enough that the rest of the diner can hear but so seriously, so desperately, that I feel as though he and I are the only ones in the room. "Stay as far away from her as you can."

Emmett makes it from Carlisle back to me in a record of time, but the boy is already gone - he storms out of the diner and slides onto an ancient looking motorcycle, then squeals out of the parking lot. I'm left shaken, not by what he said, but by the way he looked at me, the way he spoke to me, the way he . . . Everything. I try to swallow my reaction. _Being afraid of a crazy kid in a diner is no way to start a new life, Bella._

"You okay?" Emmett asked, his eyes following the boy on the motorcycle. I nod, but don't look up at him. "Bella," he said, eyes trying to search mine.

"I'm fine, seriously." I tell him. I hate and love him being this way, ready to run to my side. It makes me feel safe, but I wish so badly that I didn't need a rock to cling to.

"Ah, so you do speak, Skittles!" Carlisle says. Emmett takes the green-eyed boy's vacant seat, still warily watching the cloud of exhaust he left.

"Skittles?" I ask.

"Never seen so many colours since lookin' in a bag of Skittles." Carlisle says, nodding towards the tips of my hair. Pink, blue, purple, dark strands of mahogony. I thought that maybe if i made myself stand out, I wouldn't feel so scared of slipping off the world and vanishing like my sister - if people noticed me, they could hold me here. Emmett didn't understand, but i still think it makes sense - you forget the number of wrens and sparrows you see every day, but if a macaw flies by, you notice her. You wouldn't stop using her name and try to foget that she existed.

It didn't work though, so I'm left with almost healed piercings and a rainbow of faded dyes in the lower half of my hair.

Jed continues through my silence. "He's got a thing against Miss Hale. Don't you mind him, don't you mind any of them. People either think she's the patron saint of candy or the first sign of Fork's end days. She's the saint I promise you that."

"Right." My brother says, as if that makes complete sense. If he's as taken aback by Carlisle's description of Rosalie Hale as I am, he's not letting it show.

"Any reason should I bother trying to find out what you two kids are doing out here all alone?" Carlisle asks.

"Our stepmother asked us to leave," Emmett says shortly. "So we did."

"Right." Carlisle shoves a fork full of scrambled eggs into his mouth. "We don't get runaways too often" He says with a laugh. "But then, we don't get too many young people, period."

"We're not runaways." I correct Carlisle, quietly. "We were thrown out."

"Yeah, yeah." Carlisle says. His eyes sparkle. "But if your stepmother is the type to throw you out, you probably would have run away, sooner or later."

_Without doubt_, I think. I know I couldn't have lived with her in the shell of our childhood home for too much longer. Emmett shakes his head and takes a drink of his yet-untouched tea; his eyes widen in surprise at how sweet it is.

"Well, let's head out then." Carlisle finally says, nodding at the waitress. She takes a ten dollar bill from his hand. Emmett fumbles with his wallet to pay for our drinks.

"Don't worry about it, hon. On the house." She says with a kind smile. Usually Emmett would be too proud to walk away without paying, but I suppose being this broke has challenged his pride. He gives her an appreciative look as I follow Carlisle outside; the diner begins buzzing again behind us, as if they'd been holding in their conversations whilst strangers were around. There is a smart, black mercedes that I can already tell is Carlisle's car - it doesn't surprise me when he opens the door and waves us over. I let Emmett have the front since he's huge and in the back there isn't much leg room.

With the windows open, hot wind whipping through the air, we cut down the interstate to Emmett's jeep. He grabs most of our things, tosses them into the back of Carlisle's car, and we're on our way again.

The first stoplight we see is flashing yellow, and Carlisle coasts through it. The town appears ahead - strings of brick buildings connected with one another, though each with a slightly different store front. On the sides of the buildings are old signs from businesses long closed, painted on the brick in faded colours. It'd be idyllic, if it didn't have the feel of abandonment about it - as though the buildings are stores merely because that's what they've always been. I feel as if the empty windows are watching me.

Finally, there's a break in the buildings: a towm square, with a traffic circle around its border. In the centre is a statue of a Confederate soldier on a rearing horse. On the far side of the square, set just off the road, is a wooden building with an American flag out front and a bright red acorn logo above it. The windows are boarded up.

"Is that a school?" Emmett asks.

"It was. Forks stopped having enough students to fill it around ten years ago. All the kids are bussed down to Port Angeles now. An hour ride, but the govornment pay for the bus to come and get them. But rumour has it, that might stop, what with there being hardly and children left in Forks."

"You won the county championship in sixty-nine, I saw." Emmett adds with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"You bet we did! Our boys against Port Angeles High, biggest showdown in the county. Rosalie's father was the big star of it. Touchdown, seventy-three yards. Proudest moment Forks has ever had!" Carlisle explaims. If that was their proudest moment, I can't help but wonder what's been going on in the decades since, but I keep my mouth shut.

We emerge on the other side of town and delve back onto roads lined with pastures or trees. Carlisle begins taking strange turns onto roads that I'm certain can't lead anywhere, since they're all overgrowns with branches and the paving is barely there at all, but no, eventually we come out on a decently paved street with forests looming on either side. They're just starting to bear down on me when I spot a break in the trees, and when Carlisle slows down, I realise what it is. A front yard. We're here.

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><p><strong>20 Reviews for the next chapter... I love reviews! :)<strong>


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